


Wash my mouth but I still taste you

by BoredMoose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Do you know how long I've waited to use this trope, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredMoose/pseuds/BoredMoose
Summary: On some days, Viktor tries to look back and see when he’s started to fall in love with Yuuri. He thinks he’s been in love with him all along.Don’t tell Yuuri, but he allows himself some indulgence from time to time.Like when they’re lying together and Yuuri’s face is so close to Viktor’s and he’s been asleep for hours now and Viktor can’t sleep because Yuuri is drooling and he’s not allowed to kiss his stupid mouth senseless. So he kisses his forehead instead, the touch featherlight.It’s never a relief, as much as he wants to believe it is. It always hurts more to pull back than it hurts to stay put.After every single time it still hurts a little more.





	Wash my mouth but I still taste you

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a bad night
> 
> The work title comes from Daughter's _Numbers_ while the chapter titles comes from _Taking you there_ by Broods
> 
> This is the first time I'm posting something even remotely angsty so please go easy on me?

On some days, Viktor tries to look back and see when he’s started to fall in love with Yuuri.

Yuuri Katsuki, his best friend ever since he can remember, his (reluctant) partner in crime, the moon to his night sky, who when he looked up at him from under his long eyelashes one mid-July evening seemed so much like an ethereal being Viktor had asked him if he was an angel in a shaky whisper.

He sits on Viktor’s bed, in Viktor’s too large Aquarium t-shirt, eyes fixed on the screen while they watch a movie that Viktor’s seen a million times before but Yuuri’s never seen it so he never complains a word, while Yuuri’s hand dips into the bowl of popcorn (only to grab maybe two or three pieces of it, so unlike the handfuls that Viktor always pulls out). Maybe, in another time, their hands could brush against each other, lighting a spark that would cause Yuuri to blush and Viktor to grin, but how can Viktor even pretend he’s not hyperaware of Yuuri’s every move, his traitorous brain not allowing any accidental contact.

Yuuri snickers with this adorable noise his nose makes when his mouth is too busy to laugh. Viktor forces his eyes back to the screen to see what’s so funny. He doesn’t see anything but luckily Yuuri doesn’t expect any comment from him, slowly munching on the salted popcorn, drawn in by the action, while driving Viktor positively crazy.

And Viktor’s dealt with crushes before. He’s seen attractive people before seeing Yuuri as he sees him now. He’s never had a problem of talking them up into a date or two, a kiss or a fumble in a dark library corner. He’s even done that imagining they were _Yuuri,_ and the whispers of his name - Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri -_ died on his tongue with a sharp slap across his cheek. He’d deserved that, he thought as he continued making the same mistakes.

What makes Yuuri so much different than anyone else, is that Yuuri was first undeniably and horribly taken.

It wasn’t the same guy the whole time, no. Yuuri doesn’t fall in love easy, he claims, and so they grow bored of waiting up for him, as Viktor had heard many times over and over, with the words repeated into his collarbone, wet with tears, both Yuuri’s and his own. He’d held him, both their faces wet with tears, Yuuri sobbing ugly tears and Viktor pushing his smile back into the back of his mind together with stupid whispers of _finally_.

As it turns out, finally was never enough. He should expect that, every time, with how easy it was to love Yuuri for everyone but Yuuri himself, who could never love himself enough to not need anyone filling that gap.

Yuuri shuffles in his sit, scrambling back against the headboard, impossibly closer to Viktor, so close _but not touching_ that Viktor can feel his heat, and he can hear the hair still damp from the shower dripping single drops onto that damn Aquarium shirt. Drop. Drop.

A frustrating rhythm he could easily stop with his sleeve if only he were allowed to touch.

Yuuri’s shoulder gets damper and damper. Drop. Drop.

There’s a shot from the ten dollar bluetooth speakers and Yuuri jumps up, the back of his head colliding with the wall. Viktor’s hand automatically goes to comfort it, like it’s done so many times before. And in the dark of the room, with the hum of the laptop overheating, Yuuri’s stupid damp hair and Viktor’s shirt and blanket over their knees, it’s the first time Viktor’s let himself touch Yuuri and it feels so much better than he anticipated, so _normal_ like they’re still friends despite his stupid imagination making him wish for so much more.

It’s always like this, the first touch. Viktor checking on Yuuri when he’d hurt himself, Yuuri leaning into him at the line for smoothies, them lacing their fingers on reflex in the crowd to not lose each other, so casual and every day no one notices it but Viktor, who could count all those insignificant touches they’ve shared last month.

It opens up a dam, when he finally feels allowed to not keep his hands to himself. When Yuuri assures him he’s perfectly fine, his hand stays there, going around his shoulders so Yuuri can pillow his head on his collarbone. The annoying rhythm stops and Viktor feels his shirt begin to soak through. And Yuuri hums in appreciation like maybe he was so touch starved for Viktor as Viktor was.

It’s like that then, afterwards. Their legs find each other under the blanket, Yuuri’s hand reaching for Viktor’s free palm at a particularly loud noise from the movie Viktor has already abandoned, letting his other hand bend and card through Yuuri’s hair, air drying and growing softer and softer to the touch.

Sometimes, Yuuri laughs and comments something on the screen, much to Viktor’s confusion. He forgot the title of the movie, he even forgot they were indeed watching a movie, his mind busy categorizing the way Yuuri’s hair smells of Viktor’s shampoo, even if he showers with it so often it’s like the smell is attached to him permanently. If Viktor would let himself, it would awake some primal possessive part of him, but as it is he just enjoys it while it lasts.

Neither of them can tell at what point Viktor’s hand drifts from Yuuri’s hair to the nape of his neck. It’s another one of those things that just _happen_ and when Viktor starts gently petting the short hair there Yuuri honest to god shivers and Viktor is left wondering if it’s because of the touch or the cold sensation on his wet skin. Yuuri doesn’t protest though. So Viktor doesn’t stop.

It’s horrible. That Viktor is allowed so much when it comes to Yuuri but he’s not allowed to _kiss_ him and _tell_ him all those things he very much wants to. He’s just okay with the touches that so many people would consider too intimate for even close friends. And it teases Viktor’s heart and his desires, like there’s no line he has to watch out for, like he should be able to kiss his stupid damp black hair but he _can’t_ and holding himself together demands all of his self control that is already snapping at the seams.

(Don’t tell Yuuri, but he allows himself some indulgence from time to time.)

(Like when they’re lying together and Yuuri’s face is so close to Viktor’s and he’s been asleep for hours now and Viktor can’t sleep because Yuuri is _drooling_ and he’s not allowed to kiss his stupid mouth senseless. So he kisses his forehead instead, the touch featherlight.)

(It’s never a relief, as much as he wants to believe it is. It always hurts more to pull back than it hurts to stay put.)

(After every single time it still hurts a little more.)

Now he doesn’t have to pull back. His mouth is already resting on the top of Yuuri’s head, it’s not hard to imagine it was a kiss all along. He breathes in, again, the smell of his shampoo and something undeniably _Yuuri_ his lips automatically stretch into a smile and he hum a little in contentment through his nose.

Yuuri laughs, like the little huff of air tickled the delicate skin of his head. He swats Viktor’s face away, finally looking at Viktor instead of the screen.

(Viktor didn’t realize he missed the hazel of his eyes on him so much but now it’s like he’ll die if he ever takes his gaze off him.)

“Are you even watching?” he giggles, his voice trying to be offended but failing, because Viktor knows Yuuri has a soft spot for him too. Even if not as intense and kissing-based.

“Of course.” He lets himself look away briefly to assess the movie. It’s a zombie blockbuster (if that wasn’t an oxymoron all by itself) he remembers seeing four times in the cinema and another three times on DVD, each time accompanied and arranged by one Chris, a zombie movie enthusiast and even with that one evident flaw Viktor didn’t mind spending time with him whenever Yuuri was too busy laughing into another guy’s shoulder. Chris demanded all attention focused on him. Viktor didn’t have time to think about Yuuri’s lips stretched in a moan around another guy’s name with him.

“Okay then.” Yuuri turns his attention back to the movie and just when Viktor is about to say something to get his eyes back on him, he continues, “If you were watching, what is… this guy’s name?” he says, pointing at the screen.

Viktor hums in mock wonder. Yuuri jabs him in his ribs with his free hand and he gasps at the sharp touch.

“Okay, okay! His name is Pablo, he’s the camera man.” He finally relents. “And… Oh man, he’s just about to die.”

“They wouldn’t kill--” Yuuri’s mouth stills when the screams grow and the man drops the camera. Soon after, the woman (whose name Viktor couldn’t remember even if he tried) is pulled off too, probably to her painful and full of agony death. Yuuri’s free hand is clasped over his mouth in shock. “How did you know?”

“Maybe I’ve seen it before, maybe I haven’t,” says Viktor with an amused smile on his face. When Yuuri is about to say something probably very self deprecating like _we could have watched something you’d be interested in too,_ he cuts in. “Aa-a-ah, none of that. I would’ve said something if I didn’t want to watch it. If you don’t trust me, I’ll be picking the next movie.”

Yuuri looks like he wants to oppose but in the end he leans back against Viktor’s arm. “Fine. It makes sense. I thought you were distracted but you were just bored.”

Has Viktor really been so obvious?

They browse the movies further, Yuuri passively eating the popcorn away while Viktor tries to gather himself enough to pick something he could watch with just a fraction of his attention.

It’s a horror movie night, which surprised Viktor initially. Yuuri was never one for horror or thriller and the one time they played a scary game together, Yuuri had curled up on Viktor’s lap, not agreeing to put his headphones back on. They were probably thirteen or fourteen and Viktor was already stupidly in love, teasing Yuuri to get back into his sit but quietly enjoying the feel of Yuuri’s body on his. Maybe, if he was a little more obvious about his feelings, _maybe_ he wouldn’t have to pretend to watch the movie at all today.

But apparently, Brendon was a horror movie guy.

Brendon wasn’t new. Well, depending on the definition of _new_ , but objectively he wasn’t a new addition in Yuuri’s routine. They’ve been on and off friends for a while and when Michael dumped Yuuri, Brendon came to pick him right back up. Faster than Viktor. Because it was that one damn party Viktor felt like he was going to burst if he was to watch Yuuri make out with Michael one more time and he missed it, missed being the only shoulder for Yuuri to cry on that wouldn’t use him for his own good.

And Yuuri wants to be a good boyfriend. _God,_ all those people don’t even realize how much he does for them. For every single one of them.

So, after the explanation, Viktor said nothing. He didn’t want to let it show how much he didn’t want to watch movies for some other guy. But luckily, he was the one that Yuuri would clutch to when he was scared, if only this one time. He allows himself indulgences and even if this is a big one, he lets himself be selfish.

Just when he clicks the download button, the phone rings.

It’s not Viktor’s.

Yuuri jumps up and moves as far away from Viktor as the bed lets him (and if Viktor is hurt, he hides it well enough) and picks the phone up from the bundle of his clothes at the foot of the bed. He stares at the screen for a second, his shoulders tense; Viktor wants to rub the tension away but with the way Yuuri crawled, he is met with the perfect view of his ass, clad in only a pair of boxer briefs and what little else skin is covered by his shirt and Viktor is a weak, weak man  with a weak, weak mind so he looks away with a blush.

Yuuri picks up. It’s Brendon.

Viktor hasn’t actually met the guy much, so maybe he actually is a good guy, not the manipulative monster his brain makes him to be. Now though he can’t help but think he has cameras installed in Viktor’s dorm to call in the most inconvenient moments. Because it’s not the first time, either. And afterwards Yuuri is either stressed to the core or awkwardly makes excuses to leave.

A terrifying thought crosses Viktor’s mind. That he should watch his boyfriend closer, because it’s clear that he prefers to spend nights with his best friend rather than him. He tries to push down the pride he feels at it down as he hears Yuuri hang up.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after a while of Yuuri sitting on his heels, staring further at the phone, clutching it so hard in his right hand it looks like the screen might break. The droplets are back and this time fall on the surface of the phone with a tap, slower than before.

Tap.

Tap.

“It’s nothing,” says Yuuri finally and Viktor reprimands himself internally for not listening in on the conversation. (It’s not that he doesn’t like to give Yuuri his privacy but, well. If he knew what was being said, then maybe, he could be of more help.)

“Clearly, something is wrong,” he pushes. Years and years of living with Yuuri had taught him how and when to push to not break him but to reassure him.

It doesn’t work out now, somehow.

“Please, just… drop it.” He sounds… hurt. Viktor boils at the sole thought of someone hurting Yuuri and now that he actually sees it, he can’t help but want to snap.

“Did he break up with you?”

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Yuuri finally looks back at him and it looks like he’s holding back tears.

“He clearly upset you. It’s a normal assumption.” Viktor puts the laptop and popcorn aside, pushes himself closer to Yuuri to hold his face in his hands. After Yuuri moved away it feels weird again, renewing the contact, but Yuuri doesn’t even flinch, just closes his eyes and sighs.

“Just… please. Maybe tomorrow, once I can think about it.”

It’s not what Viktor hoped for. But it’s a promise and it makes his heart feel a little lighter, like the thought of Yuuri handling this on his own has made it easier on him too. He smiles and pulls Yuuri up, his jaw still in his palms.

“Tomorrow then?”

Yuuri smiles back.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

 

Yuuri doesn’t want to watch a movie afterwards. He lets Viktor get dressed for sleep and they lay down, close together as they always do, ever since they first slept together during a snowstorm. Yuuri didn’t expect Viktor to be afraid of storm or thunder. But when he whined like a hurt dog, he didn’t hesitate to put his arms around him and shush him to sleep, humming a tune Viktor never heard.

They sleep faced towards each other, their hands intertwined. It’s almost too intimate, again, and Viktor has to stop himself from reaching just those few simple inches to lay a kiss on Yuuri’s lips with a quiet goodnight. He limits himself to a whisper and a prolonged stare into Yuuri’s eyes that he surprisingly gives back, like he is searching for something in Viktor’s eyes too. Something like approval or consent or…

Yuuri’s breath evens out. It was shaky ever since the phone call and now he slumbers, his face relaxed and angelic, just like Viktor remembers it always has been, without the troubles weighing him down.

Some minutes pass before Viktor has the courage to scoot closer, so close he can feel Yuuri’s breathing on his knuckles. He traces his lips with his finger before finally pressing his own dry lips against his forehead. He halts, just for a moment, in case Yuuri would wake, but he doesn’t do anything of the sorts, his shoulders rising and falling in the same rhythm as always. That’s when he retracts, feeling shame prickling on his skin. He knows he needs to get over Yuuri soon or he will only get more people hurt. Or the innocent stolen kisses won’t be enough, even if they are too much to begin with.

He stays close, to hear every intake of air Yuuri takes, to ground himself and to calm down. He can do this just one more time. Just once again, let him drown in his own love.

Viktor wonders when he started to fall in love with Yuuri.

And he thinks he’s been in love with him all along.

(When he falls asleep he doesn’t feel the press of lips against the crown of his head or the quiet sound of his own name.)

**Author's Note:**

> Scream at me on tumblr <3 http://boredmoose.tumblr.com/ And let me know how you liked it, whether here in the comments or on tumblr!


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